


Autistic Connor

by emirrart



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Autism, Autistic Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Family Fluff, Gen, just drabbles really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-23 01:46:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17071139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emirrart/pseuds/emirrart
Summary: literally what the title says, with lots of fluff and stuff.





	1. Walkies

"I'd like to take Sumo for a walk."

Hank looked up at Connor from the table, surprise gracing his face for a second.

"On your own?" He questioned.

"Yes." The android bluntly replied.

Hank considered it. The poor dog hadn't really been taken very good care of recently. His fur was matted and dry, and he didn't have the energy a six year old dog should have. He seemed more tired than Hank on most days, and lazed around the house, occasionally flopping himself next to Connor on the floor, or opting to lazily drag his upper half onto the lieutenant's lap when he sat on the couch.

"Aren't you going to be cold in that?" the older man asked.

Connor was wearing his DPD sweatshirt and his regular jeans, but had a red scarf tucked around his neck. He didn't seem to have any intention of grabbing his coat if Hank were to agree.

"I'll be fine." The android offered a small awkward smile, contradicting his stiff pose.

"You know how to clean up after him?"

"Yes. I've researched the best methods. I'll also be bringing some treats with me in order to try to re-train him for walks." Connor said, almost as if he'd scripted it, which Hank didn't doubt he may have done.

"How long will you be?"

"Between twenty and fourty minutes. I'd like to start off slow to ensure that I don't tire him or myself out."

After a second of glancing at Sumo, Hank waved a hand in the general direction of the door. "Knock yourself out, kid."

Connor shot him a better smile than the one he offered before. "Hopefully I won't."

Watching the android rile Sumo up was... Nice to see. Hank hadn't seen Sumo as happy as he did when Connor excitedly said to him "You wanna go out?" while holding his lead and allowing him to jump all over himself. Sumo's claws caught on Connor's sweatshirt a few times and Connor had to personally unhook himself from the bouncy dog's grasp. This was nice.


	2. Showing Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor has funny ways of showing he cares

Connor did a lot of strange things.

Sometimes he'd echo Sumo's barks with the exact same tone and intonation to "talk" to him. He'd kneel on the floor and quickly pat his hands on the ground to initiate play with him, or he'd gently lay on top of him, careful to not place his whole weight on the dog, but just enough to be like a horizontal hug. He had funny ways of showing Sumo he loved him.

Connor would sometimes stand directly behind Hank while he was doing something such as cooking or reading, and gently headbutt the older man in the middle of the shoulder blades with his forehead, then when questioned, would just smile and walk away. Now that action is rewarded with his hair being ruffled and being told playfully to "Get outta here."

Sometimes he'd bite Hank. Not hard or anything, pretty much just putting something of his between his teeth and applying a little pressure. He'd gently bite his hand or shoulder when hugging, which of course was met with a negative response at first, but slowly and surely Hank began to let him nibble on his sweatshirt or his hand knowing he meant well. Also the fact that he had a completely sterile mouth let Hank be less grossed out.

He would also bring things home. Shiny pieces of blunt glass he'd found while on a walk, small stones, snapped buttons, pieces of pipe, sticks he found cool, bells that had come off of cats' collars, chipped bottle caps; anything that caught his fancy while walking. He'd fill his hoodie pockets and then gently lay them out on his desk to select which one would be suitable to give to Hank. Usually the bells or the stones, but only the best were allowed to make their way to Hank.

Connor would meow, chirp, click, imitate a phone's texting noise, or repeat his infamous phrase pertaining cyberlife to Hank just to let him know he's in the room, and he's here for him.

Connor did a lot of strange things to show he loved his dad, and wouldn't want his current life any other way.


	3. Coins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank hands over sum' special to his sonbot

_Ting, ting._

Connor's coin flipped between his hands in quick succession. Left, right, left right, balance, flip, flip, left, right, left.

A quarter. 1994 minted, polished and shiny. 91.67 percent copper and 8.33 percent nickel.

_Ting, ting._

The noise never failed to get Hank's attention. It had become a noise that his brain seemingly actively searched out. The coin being used usually meant that Connor was overstimulated, nervous or struggling to process something.

Sometimes Connor didn't have enough energy to do his tricks, and would simply run the serrated edge against the underside of his thumbnail, which resulted in no noise for Hank to seek out; in those situations however, Hank wouldn’t need to look for the coin or its signature “tings”. Connor’s instinct when finding himself in that position would always find his way just behind Hank; the older man just within his vision, but not at the centre. Just enough to reassure him that if he needed him, Hank was just at an arm’s reach away.

Right now, however, the distinct metallic noise had been consistently repeating the same pattern for the last half hour, and Hank didn’t know how much longer he could take the consistent “ting, ting, tings.”

“Hey, Con?” he spoke up, annoyance bordering in the margin of his voice.

“Yes, Hank?” Connor didn’t look up from his flipping. He was sitting on the floor and seemed to be comfortable enough.  Maybe this time he wasn’t overstimulated? Maybe he was just doing it for fun? Either way, Hank himself was feeling overstimulated from such a repetitive noise and seeing the coin constantly flying up and dropping in the corner of his vision, so he pressed on, his idea fresh in his mind. Probably not the best idea in the long run, but it would stop the flipping for a little while without Hank having to discourage Connor’s coping methods.

“You know how much you like coins?”

Connor nodded, still not looking up.

“I’ve got a few you might like.”

That statement made Connor stop his fidgeting and look up, making full eye contact with Hank, tilting his head in curiosity.

“Do you want to see them?” Hank asked, trying to sound less annoyed and more nonchalant.

Connor nodded vigorously and stood up, slipping his quarter into his back trouser pocket, certainly not to be forgotten, but simply ignored for the moment.

Hank grinned and pulled himself up off the sofa, making the signature “dad noise” – a low groan while trying to stand up, then hissing once he’d gained his balance. Connor followed slightly behind Hank as he led him to the wardrobe in his room. He opened the door, the stretched to reach a cylindrical tin, a deep red with slight rust on the edges, Coca Cola printed on the side in bright white despite the age of the thing. It made a distinct jangling noise that, while it hurt Connor’s ears, piqued his attention.

Hank made the “dad noise” as he kneeled on the ground, then patted the floor to indicate for Connor to join him. Once he had, Hank dumped the contents of the tin onto the carpet; piles and piles of paper bags full of coins. Connor’s eyes practically shone when he saw the glint of the silver and bronze, and he resisted the urge to grab at them by digging his hands into the space between his calves and thighs. Hank smiled at the reaction, and picked up one particular paper bag, which was pale red with one white circle in the centre. He tipped the bag, allowing a lone coin to fall out, making a small thump as it hit the dense carpet.

“100 lira. An Italian coin I nabbed from my dad back in the day.” Hank said, picking the coin up and admiring it.

Connor stared at the coin, then gently lifted his hand. “May I hold it?” he asked.

Hank handed it over with little hesitation. Connor was absolutely enthralled with it. It was slightly larger than his quarter, and weighed a little more. The serrated edge was less prominent, and the text on the edge read “ITALIANA REPVBBLICA.”

“The lira was the currency of Italy between 1861 and 2002 and of the Albanian Kingdom between 1941 and 1943. Between 1999 and 2002, the Italian lira was officially a national subunit of the euro.” Connor recited. Hank nodded as he continued to spill facts from his brain, but the older man stopped being able to focus after a little while. It was best to just let Connor finish his monologues and infodumps without disruption.

Once Connor had seemingly finished speaking, Hank asked “D’ya want to keep it?”

Connors eyes widened as his jaw dropped slightly. He squeezed his hand shut, enclosing the coin and pulling his hand to his chest. “You’re offering?” He gasped out.

“If you want it, you can keep it. Just don’t let me catch ya flipping it all over the place. I don’t want it getting lost. It took a lot of work for me to nag that off my dad and I don’t want all the effort going to waste” Hank replied.

Connor smiled.

“Thank you, Hank. I will resist flipping this one.”

The “ting, ting” of Connor’s quarter wasn’t heard for the rest of the day.


End file.
